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Thursday, October 19, 2017

This past Sunday our minister's sermon was on this text from Philippians, which gives a gentle push to thoughts of a higher order.

"Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."

I needed this reminder and perhaps you do too. These words are a touchstone that serve as not only wise guidance, but permission, yes permission, to at least occasionally turn thoughts away from the evening news, away from fears, away from sorrow, away from grievances, away from social media trivialities, away from [fill in the blank], and toward what is noble and right and pure and lovely and excellent and praiseworthy.

This morning I'm blowing the dust off something I wrote long ago. In Just Think: Nourish Your Mind to Feed Your Soul,I launched from this verse in Philippians to write a bulleted list of reasons to stock one's mind well. Here are some of the bullets in that list:

To be catalyzed, expanded, and ignited. Those of use who have battled a blah spirit and lifeless mind on one or more occasions won't find it difficult to draw a link between the state of our spirit and the state of our mind.

To stay optimistic and not lose hope or vibrancy. The world is full of wonderful things.

To link reason and imagination. To see the chasm between what is and what could be. To see possibility. To see opportunities for greatness.

To know the richness, vastness, and beauty of that which has been divinely created.

To form a solid foundation from which to launch action

To provide sufficient mental content of beauty and joy so that we are less likely to gravitate toward content of despair or fear.

To be equipped for creativity.

It's always OK to be a student of what you've already learned long ago and have needed to learn again and again. May your day be one of joy and hope. The world is full of wonderful things.

Friday, July 07, 2017

Tonight I went with a long-time friend to hear Terry Tempest Williams at Magers & Quinn, Minneapolis' finest independent bookstore. She was there to talk about her book, The Hour of Land: A Personal Topography of America's National Parks, which came out last year, but also to talk about much more. You might say it was a heart-to-heart talk between Terry and the 150 or so people gathered there, whom she talked to like we were her best friends.

She said that each of us must take the gifts that are ours and sharpen them, deepen them, and use them, each in our own place. She then spoke about the need to protect our National Parks and Monuments, particularly given the current political climate. She told us that after the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln designated Yosemite as the first National Park with the rationale being that a place of such beauty could help heal a divided nation.

I haven't read the book yet, but here's a section from a peak inside the chapter on Gulf Islands National Seashore, a place in my home state of Florida:

"Heading back toward Alabama, we take a turn over Cat Island and Horn Island, part of the Gulf Island National Seashore, each of whose seven islands have been affected by the spill. But on this day we see through the emerald waters to crystalline sands. I realize it is not the devastation of the oil that has undone me, but the beauty that remains. Constellations of cownosed rays speckle the sea with brown-red diamonds. Pods of dolphins race ahead of us. Tom sees a large shark that we miss. And schools of shimmering fish congregate in the shallow turquoise waters closer to shore."

~

I'm thinking that the place to use the gifts that are ours, sharpened and deepened, isn't the same for everyone, and I am also thinking, along with Williams, that each of us has a place in cultivating or protecting something that heals, in cultivating or protecting something of beauty.

Thursday, February 16, 2017

The fine people at Paraclete Press have sent me some copies of two new journals they’ve just published so that I can give them away to readers of this blog. Both are by Hilda St. Clair, a writer and artist from Cape Cod. The journals are gorgeous. One is called All Shall Be Well: A Spiritual Journal for Hope & Encouragement, and the other is Love Never Fails: A Journal to be Inspired by the Power of Love.Every page of each journal has a stunning graphic by St. Clair on the left–with quotes by Rainer Maria Rilke, Martin Luther King, Jr, Gregory the Great, James Baldwin, Julian of Norwich, Eleanor Roosevelt, Teresa of Avila, Catherine of Siena, and more. On the right is a writing prompt with space to journal or respond in some other way in writing. If you click the linked titles you’ll be able to look through each journal and see what I mean.

To enter, just leave a comment to this post and on Monday, February 27, I’ll put all the names in a pot and draw one each for the six copies I have to give away. If you’d rather send me an email instead of leaving a comment on the blog, that’s fine too. I know there are fancy online random picking systems to sign up for and employ for such giveaways, but I need to keep this simple, and I’ll surely keep it honest. I hope you’ll enter!

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Update from Monday, February 27: My husband drew six names – gathered here in comments and from emails – and so we have the winners! I'll send out notes later today and will put the books in mail probably tomorrow.

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

A long time ago I posted a moment of silence on this blog. I think it's time to do it again. Mid-December and there is so much being done, so much yet to do. If you've landed on this post and want to play along, just close your eyes, take a couple deep breaths, and let your mind be still.

[silence]

You're welcome.

~~~

[Photo: taken of our backyard river birch] When you're done being silent, you can read this old post, "Why Silence?"

Thursday, August 11, 2016

The Spring 2016 issue of Comment magazine has an essay by visual artist Christen Borgman Yates, “Justice, Beauty, and Habits of Waiting.” The essay emerges from a review of a new book: The Justice Calling by Bethany Hanke Hoang and Kristen Deede Johnson.

It was an ink and graphite drawing in the piece that first caught my eye, and the pairing of the drawing with its title that held my eye and my thoughts. This image of a woman, head tilted back and to the side, with a smile broad enough to match the finest piece of good news has the title, “Having Considered the Facts.” Usually facing the facts is a grim sort of task, but here Yates reminds us that there are also facts that delight, and perhaps these are the facts that supersede all others.

You can see the full image of the drawing at Yate’s website at this link (scroll down). I hope you'll click around on her site and enjoy her other work as well. You can also read her full essay/review in Commentat this link. I particularly liked what she wrote about Dorothy Day and her commitment to “the duty of delight”

~~~

[Photo: Upper: taken of bee balm on the campus of the College of St. Benedict in St. Joseph, Minnesota earlier this summer; lower: taken of page from Yate's Comment essay/review.]

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Last week I took some vacation days and off we went to a cabin on a lake. I made a reasonable effort at staying unplugged, but logging into Facebook on that Thursday brought news of the Philando Castile shooting the night before in the Twin Cities, where I live. Instant inner turbulence. The weather had already been turbulent. Earlier in the week, we had spent about 30 minutes in the basement riding out the peak of a severe storm. As my photograph shows, more turbulent weather was on the way, but how beautiful this moment.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

I’ve just finished reading for the second time an essay by Denis Haack in the past month’s issue of Critique, an excellent periodical of which Haack is the editor. In “Seeing Beyond the Traces,” Haack writes:

“All creation is called into existence by God so all creation reflects his glory, which means that signals of transcendence can be found across all of life and reality. Some are touched or moved by things in nature, a flower or goldfinch or nebula. Others find traces of glory in human creativity, in art, humor, play, science, technology, and the myriad crafts that bring utility and beauty into the common tasks of daily existence. And then there are the deep yearnings that are so rooted in the heart and imagination that they are indistinguishable from our humanity—the yearning for a father, for a home, and for love that will not leave with the morning light. The inexhaustible desire for justice, the insistent search for meaning, the hopefulness that is born with the birth of a child—all all of which are present even when warfare, famine, plague, drought, and flood ravage a countryside.”

He goes on to recommend the poetry of Wendell Berry and the writing of Annie Dillard (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Holy the Firm), writers who perceive signals of transcendence particularly well, and then continues:

“Reflecting on all this reminds me to be grateful for all the ways there are traces of God that appear around me in this broken world. It reminds me to order my life so that I do not miss the signals of transcendence that are in my path. It reminds me to develop the wise disciplines of observation and waiting that permit my view of reality to have greater clarity.”

Speaking of signals of transcendence, an essay of mine that was originally published in the journal Lake Effect (and received notable mention in Best American Writing 2013) was reprinted last week online at Art House America. It's about a tour I went on of labyrinths in the Minneapolis metro area. But it's about more than that, of course. I'd be honored it you'd take a look at "Prelude."

~~~

[Photo: taken from hammock, looking up, signals of transcendence all around.]

Wednesday, June 08, 2016

Sunday, at church, after the service was over, we sat again, as has become customary, while our extraordinary organist played the postlude. Instruction to stay seated is not given in the bulletin; it just started happening. Not everyone stays and listens. Many get up and move to greet the minister, chat with a friend or visitor, or go find the coffee and treats. Those of us who do stay usually keep seated where we are but some switch to a pew closer to the front, where the pipe organ lives. Sunday's postlude was the most beautiful Bach's Prelude and Fugue in C Major. I love this quiet moment, this spontaneous and organic practice of leisure, this corporate dwelling in beauty.

In my work as a medical writer I've written a little about "consolidation therapy" - for some kinds of cancer, once the main treatment is finished another course of something is given to "consolidate" the main treatment's effect and to help finish the work it started. I sometimes think of walks after a session of creative writing as a period of consolidation. The thoughts and images that had earlier rushed in at the writing desk are given a chance to gel and find their place.

It struck me on Sunday, sitting quietly in that pew with Bach ringing, that this post-service listening is a kind of "consolidation therapy." The Word that has already moved through the hymns, the prayers, the readings, the sermon, the communion table now sinks in deeper, finishing the morning's inner work in ways unseen.

“Far from my high school daydreams about the future, I am on a search for daily meaning as well as for daily bread, for living rather than dying. I want to cast my net on the side of astonishment.... I want to find God at work in me and through me. I want livelihood.

Livelihood: the word gathers up and bundles together the simultaneous longings for meaning, satisfaction, and provision. In the fullest sense of the word, livelihood means the way of one’s life; it means the sustenance to make that way possible; it means both body and soul are fully alive thanks to what has been earned or received by grace. On one level we make our livelihood; on another level we keep our eyes open and find it.”

–Nancy J. Nordenson, Finding Livelihood: A Progress of Work and Leisure (Kalos Press)

By day I'm a medical writer. After hours I do another kind of work. Creative writing, spiritual writing, essaying. This blog arises from those after hours. I write about work/vocation, meaning, hope, imagination, faith, science, creativity/writing, books, and anything else I feel the impulse to write about. I hope these short posts provide camaraderie for your own creative and spiritual life.